Trigger warning: this post deals with sexual assault.
I squeezed my eyes shut as flecks of spit landed on my cheeks.
Mum’s boyfriend David was standing over me, his face inches from mine.
“I’m trying to watch TV!” he screamed. “Stop getting in my way, you stupid girl.”
David was tall and an army sergeant. I was a tiny eight-year-old. I ran upstairs to my bedroom, buried my head in the pillow and cried. My mum, Laura, had only been with David for a month. My sister Claire, six, and I were terrified of him.
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We’d tiptoe around the house, careful not to rile him.
“Children should be seen and not heard,” he’d tell us.
One afternoon, he screamed at Claire after she spilt a glass of cordial. She burst into tears.
“I hate him so much,” she said to me afterwards. “And Mum never helps us.”
“I know,” I replied. “We have to stick together.”
Mum was besotted with David. While he unleashed his temper on us, she’d stand and watch. One day, I confronted her and she said: “It’s his house, he can do what he likes.”
“We have to stick together.”
Years passed, and when I was 16 and unable to stand living with Mum and David any longer, I went to live with my dad. It didn’t work out, so reluctantly I rang Mum to ask if she’d come and pick me up.
But David answered.
“It’s too late, your mum has to be up early for work,” he said. “I’ll come and get you.”
When his car pulled up outside Dad’s house, I could see David was angry with me.
We drove in silence for half an hour, until he pulled off the road and parked. I assumed he was stopping for a cigarette. But then, without warning, he unclicked his seatbelt and climbed on top of me.
I froze as he raped me. I didn’t make a sound. He was bigger than me and I was terrified of him.
Afterwards, he got back in the driver’s seat and drove us home as if nothing had happened.
When he parked in our driveway, I jumped out and bolted into the house. I thought he’d go straight up to bed so I went into the living room to digest what had just happened.
Moments later, he sidled up to me on the sofa and placed his hand on my leg.
Mum and Claire were asleep upstairs so I gritted my teeth and kept quiet as he pushed me into the cushions and raped me again.
When he was finished, he strolled into the kitchen.
“Do you want a sandwich?” he asked with a smirk.
I was too stunned to speak. When he went to bed, he said, “Don’t tell your mother.”
But then without warning, he unclicked his seatbelt and climbed on top of me.
Soon after, I fell pregnant with a boyfriend I was dating. I told him what David had done and he said I should move in with him. We split, but he said I could still stay in his unit.
When I was four months pregnant, I was walking to the shops when one of Claire’s friends came running over.
“You need to talk to Claire,” he told me. “She’s being abused by David.”
Not her too! I thought.
I rushed over to Mum and David’s house and went straight to Claire’s room.
“Has David been abusing you?” I asked her.
Her face dropped.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “He’s been touching and kissing me since I was six. He said if I told he’d do it to you instead.”
“It’ll be okay,” I said hugging her, but adrenalin was flooding through me. I stormed out and found Mum in the bathroom.
“David’s being abusing Claire,” I said. “And he’s raped me.”
She didn’t flinch. She glared at my baby bump. “Is the baby his?” she said.
“No,” I replied.
She barged into Claire’s bedroom.
“Is it true?” she asked. “Has David been abusing you?”
Claire looked at me, her eyes wide with fear.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Come with me,” Mum said. We followed her into the living room where David was slumped on the sofa.
“Claire, has David abused you?” she asked my sister.
“No,” she said, before running back up the stairs.
“Well of course she won’t say it in front of him!” I raged.
“What about you?” Mum snapped to me. “Has David raped you?”
“Yes!” I shouted.
“What rubbish,” David said. “They’re making it up for attention.”
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“He’s been touching and kissing me since I was six. He said if I told he’d do it to you instead.”
I convinced Mum to take us to the police station where I gave a statement, but Claire was too scared.
Afterwards, I felt hopeful that we’d get justice, but at home Mum pulled me aside.
“Drop the charges or else I’ll have nothing to do with you or that baby,” she said. I knew I couldn’t cope on my own so I had no choice but to agree.
Six months later, Mum announced that she and David were getting married.
She forced me and Claire to attend the wedding to keep up the pretence we were a normal, happy family.
So we looked quietly on as Mum married the man who’d abused us both. It was the ultimate betrayal.
Years passed and I tried to get on with my life, but I struggled with depression and night terrors.
Eventually, 20 years on, I decided enough was enough.
“We have to report him,” I said to Claire on the phone.
“You’re right,” she said.
In time, David Timmins appeared in court and denied four counts of indecent assault, one count of indecency with a child and two counts of rape.
Mum stood by David and even defended him.
But he was jailed for 15 years. In her sentencing remarks, Judge Sarah Buckingham condemned our mother.
She told David: “Laura, your wife, failed to protect her daughters from you. You knew that she would stand by you which enabled you to first try and effectively groom Claire. She was a vulnerable young girl trapped in her own home by her mother’s very poor choice in partner. She was exposed to the risk you provided each and every day of her childhood and her mother, who was weak and inadequate was unable or unwilling to protect her.”
As we left the courtroom, Mum, who’d been waiting outside – fired a tirade of abuse at us.
I haven’t seen her since and I hope I never do again. Claire and I have each other and that’s all that matters.
If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this article, call the National Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault helpline on 1800 737 732 or Lifeline on 13 11 14.
